


Screen glare

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Isolation, Loneliness, Mental Health Issues, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25747816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: George works so incredibly hard every day: coding, streaming, editing, and fitting his basic needs wherever he can squeeze them in between.But it never feels good enough.Despite his constant effort and sacrifices he makes, he is constantly left feeling that he could have done more; could have done better.WORK ON HOLD INDEFINITELY. Kinda works as a one shot???
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Screen glare

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I wrote this as practice for when I return to school next week as I'm doing Advanced Higher English (yay!) and haven't done much writing as of late. I thought I'd upload it here anyways since someone might enjoy it, and I'd appreciate any constructive critisism given! I haven't proofread this yet so there's probably sone grammar/spelling errors.
> 
> Also it's mostly descriptive, so if you're here for a fast paced story, I'm afraid today I won't be delivering. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

George feels a stinging burn spreading slowly, torturously throughout his mostly unblinking eyes, only batting the exhausted lids closed when the fiery sensation becomes too much to for the british man to bear without water clouding his already frazzled vision.  
He briefly glances at the clock to the bottom right of his monitor and double takes, mouth opening slightly in surprise. 

04:56

He takes one hand off of his keyboard to scratch his head, then brings his hands together to crack the stiff joints of his fingers. His hands feel cold, yet the very tips of his fingers which had been pressing relentlessly at the smooth blue back-lit mechanical keys which allowed him to write the carefully calculated strings of code. His hands felt numb now that they were no longer occupied with his scribes, now shaking slightly, and the brit sighs, slumping back into his gaming chair and relaxing into the padded support behind his aching muscles. After a moment of relaxing he brings his hand to his mouse and brings discord up on his screen. He had messages from a few of his friends which he opts out of checking until he's on his phone, ready to sleep. Going back to the code once again as he sits up, his overworked hands hover over the keyboard, threatening to continue another line of code, however he decides against it and saves his progress before swiftly closing the tabs he had opened and powers off his pc. 

He stands up and stretches his back before he stumbles back, feeling faint and grabbing the chair behind him for support. He places his free hand atop his forehead and grimaces as he lets out a pained hiss, feeling nauseous for a few seconds, before sighing as he regained himself with a small smile. He stumbles tiredly to his unmade bed, taking a seat and picking his phone up from the bedside cabinet. Unlocking his phone, he pulls his legs onto the mattress and pulls the quilt over himself and gets comfortable, although still in his everyday clothes. The dim light of his phone is a relaxing contrast to the bright white glare of his computer, he thinks as he opens discord to read his messages.

Ponk had messaged him first: mostly just spam messages telling him at around 2am to go to bed with some vague - obviously satire - threats, which he chuckles at.

Next, his messages from Callahan, who told George about a game he found interesting which despite reading, he found no interest in. He replies saying he'll check it out, but the chances of him keeping that promise are incredibly thin. 

Finally, Dream was the last to have messaged him, around 15 minutes ago. His Floridan friend's messages started off normal enough, but as the timestamps became increasingly later, the tone of the one-sided conversation began to shift from light conversation to apparent concern, the younger man messaging things ranging from 'It isn't like you to not respond' to 'It's getting late, you fell asleep? You should go to bed' to 'George????'. The last few messages make George feel guilty for making his friends worry. He bites his lip unforgiving as he reads, 'George I'm getting worried. This is the third night this week I've seen you up later than I go to bed. Is everything ok??? You can talk to me if you need to, you know. I wish you would at least respond so I know you're ok. msg me when you can.' He swipes, and notices Dream is offline. He sighs in relief, glad to not have to confront him in his tired state. He doesn't know if he could think of what to say to his friend. He stares at the messages for a few moments more to analyse them, and as he goes to leave the app, his phone begins to vibrate violently. He squints slightly at the sceeen, and his eyes grow wide.

Its Dream

George tries to evaluate what to do. He could just let the call die out, but then his friend would message him. Dream must've seen that George was online, and he curses himself for not going invisible. Clicking the bright green icon, he turns on the speaker and waits a second before saying anything. "... Hello-"

"George.", he's cut off. The man stays quiet, feeling intimidated by the slightly harsher than usual tone from Dream, who usually speaks pretty softly. All he can manage is a small 'uh' before giving up and waiting for Dream to advance the conversation. He hears his friend sigh deeply before he speaks again. "George-" he begins, sounding mildly irritated. "-What's going on?"

... George doesn't want to answer the question. He clears his throat, before replying. "Uhhm... what do you-"  
"Don't you dare 'what do you mean' me, George." he spits mockingly. George swallows silently. "You know exactly what I mean. All week, Geoege--all week, you've been acting weird. You're staying up all night, not taking breaks when we record or edit, and you're quiet?! You're never quiet!". George stares silently.

Dream awaits a response but doesn't get one. When George stays silent, he let's out a long breath. Maybe he's being too harsh, but he's worried about his friend. His tone softens."... Sorry. Just--can you talk to me, George? If something's wrong, I-"

George interrupts Dream. "N-no, it's... it's fine, Dream. I, uh... I don't know what's uo with me." he lied. "I guess I just... feel..." the words are on the tip of his tongue, but he can't say anything.

"... feel...?"

"... Oh, I don't know Dream! I'm just... tired, I guess. I don't... I don't know."

Dream purses his lips as he thinks... he moves his free hand to move his hair away from his face, shifting on his bed so that he's on his left side instead of on his back. "... Can..." he sighs. "Can I see you...?" he asks carefully. George considers the request for a few moments, before shifting himself into a more convenient position and turning his camera on.

Dream waits for the video to load, and when it does he frowns. Immediately Dream sees that something is wrong with his friend. His skin is worryingly pale, but his cheeks are a deep red, and he has very apparent bags under his eyes. He also notices... "... George are... you still in your clothes...?" George looks at his shoulder and laughs awkwardly. "Oh, uh, I am. I guess I didn't realise..."

Dream lets a small breath out. George seems pretty sleep deprived, and a bit out of it. This conversation can't last much longer. "Alright... you should get changed then, and go to bed. I'll call you tomorrow when I wake up... probably around 2pm your time. Okay?" George nods as he yawns silently. "Alright. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Dream."

"Goodnight, George."


End file.
